One Million Love Songs Later
by Eb0nyBlack
Summary: Kurt is the only openly gay teen in the small town of Lima, Ohio and he's been through so much abuse because of it. He is constantly bullied, has no friends and refuses to let anyone in. Can the appearance of one Blaine Anderson change all of that? Warning attempted suicide. Read at own risk.
1. Prologue 1

Kurt was your stereotypical gay teen living in Lima, Ohio. Well, to be more accurate, he was the only out gay teen living in Lima, Ohio.

Life was not as easy for him as the gay teens you see on the tv, he had it rough. He was bullied pretty much since day one. The worst being from one Dave Karofsky. A football player. A jock. A homophobic jackass. Kurt could take it though.

He was tough. Over the years he'd built up so many walls it was hard for him to let any one in. He couldn't risk anyone getting close for fear that they would rip out his heart once they ripped down those protective walls of his. He wasn't one for friends, he didn't want anyone getting too close. All his past experiences just led to disappointment and heartache for him, so he thought that it'd be best to go through the remainder of high school without them. He didn't need anyone. He had his books, his music and the latest twilight dvd with shirtless scenes of Taylor Lautner. What more could a gay teen need?

Because of all of his trust issues Kurt had grown apart from his dad, Burt. They hadn't had one of their traditional Friday night dinners in over 6 months. It wasn't his fault, it was a stupid tradition. One which his father tried to stick to in an attempt to bond with his homosexual son after his wife, Kurt's mom, died. Kurt was too grown up for that. He didn't need his father trying to bond with him. He knew his dad would never fully understand him. He'd never get him and how he felt and all the crap he had to deal with. Unlike his mom, she knew everything. She would be able to tell if something was wrong with just one single glance. She was kind of awesome like that. It was times like these that he wished his mom was still here with him. She would know what to do about all of this bullying. She could make it all better. Even as a child, before Kurt himself knew he was gay, he was bullied and taunted. The other children wouldn't play with him for fear that they might catch it. His mom would comfort him by singing Take That - her favourite band. And whenever that didn't work she'd make him a hot chocolate and sit with him in bed until he fell asleep reading J-Lo's autobiography. She was always there for him in a way his father could not be.

As of late, the bullying Kurt had been subject to had increased rapidly in terms of frequency and severity. He was on the brink of losing it, he could feel his every muscle twitch whenever he heard someone approach him. He'd been through a lot but Dave just was not letting up. Kurt honestly didn't know what his problem was, he couldn't help it if Dave was a homophobe. Or that his fashion sense was universes better than the older boy's. Or that Kurt had a flawless JFK hairline.

This was no excuse for what was happening. No one should go through this. No one should have to come home and rush into their bedroom for fear that their father would see the army of bruises forming on his arms and pale face. They shouldn't have to hide in the bathroom and school and miss lessons to clean their bloodstained clothes. All of it was too much. Kurt could not and would not take it anymore. This discrimination was not going to stop anytime soon so the tall boy was going to have to make it. He had to find a way to make the pain stop. He couldn't keep doing this. All the bruises, the blood, the broken fingers. He'd had enough. He was tired and sick of feeling all this pain.

And so he decided what he needed to do, the only thing he could do. He was too weak, drained both physically and emotionally. This was his only option. His only escape.

Kurt, the brown haired boy with faded blue eyes as of late, sat on his double bed atop his silk sheets crying into his well moisturised hands.

_This is the only way. The only way to make the pain stop. Burt will be okay. He'll understand. Everyone will. You're upset and you need this release. Anything to make the pain stop, anything._

And so the boy gave in to his conscious.


	2. Prologue 2

'KURT! KURT! KURT PLEASE WAKE UP PLEASE! DON'T DO THIS TO ME KIDDO, JUST DON'T' a frantic Burt Hummel screamed, shaking his son's limp body. The tears stained his cheeks. His eyes red raw and hands gripping his son's thin shoulders never wanting to let go. He couldn't let go. That would mean Kurt was gone. He wasn't going to let his son, the person he loved most in the entire world, leave him this easy. He wasn't going to give up with out a fight.

The man reluctantly released one shoulder, scrambling for his mobile phone in his jacket pocket and jabbed in 911.

'Come on, come on, PICK UP GODDAMN IT' the man was shouting down the phone, hands shaking with every word and sob that escaped his chapped lips.

'Hello, 911 what is your emergency?' a calm robotic sounding woman answered.

'I need an ambulance now. My son.. He's.. He could be, I, I think he.. I just found him, hanging in his room. Please send someone to help please. I can't lose him. He's my world. Please hurry. Please, please..' he trailed off giving in to his unshed tears, gasping violently for air.

_What if they don't make it in time? What if.. What if i, what if i lose him? I just, i can't go through that again. I can't lose the only thing in this world that matters to me. I can't lose Kurt. I can't. Please God, don't take him away from me. It's not his time._

His chaotic thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sirens gravitating towards the Hummel household.

'Thank God. Kurt, buddy, can you hear that? They're coming. You're going to be alright. You're going to be alright pal.' He cried, lifting his son's unresponsive body, cradling him, tears staining the boy's white suit shirt and grey vest.

Two paramedics scrambled into the house and ran upstairs to Kurt's room to find the boy and his father on the floor. Burt was still cradling his son's body. He was clutching at every piece of him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear in hopes that he'd hear them and wake up. That he wouldn't leave his father like this. He wouldn't leave his father alone in this cruel world. He wouldn't go without saying goodbye.

'Sir, we need you to step back so we can see to your son' one paramedic requested as they crouched on the wooden floor beside the Hummels. Burt did not look at them. He couldn't. All of his attention was on Kurt right now. Nothing else mattered.

A timid hand reached out, clutching Burt's whimpering shoulder and squeezed firmly. 'We'll take good care of him Mr Hummel. But first, we need you to let go. We need to take him to the hospital or we could lose him forever'.

That last word rang through Burt's mind. His body locked up immediately at that single word, forever.

He couldn't lose Kurt forever, so he let go. His hands still shaking and body weak. He attempted to stand but he could not find the strength. The man put all his energy into holding back the tears, trying to keep himself composed for his son, who was in need of a father, not a blubbering mess. It took all he had to hold it in when he saw Kurt, hanging from a beam in his bedroom. His body just swaying from the Marc Jacob's belt his father bought him last Christmas. It was so unexpected. Burt wandered up the stairs to Kurt's room, preparing the usual dinner's ready spiel, when he walked in on the most haunting image any father could ever see. Something he couldn't have imaged in his worst of nightmares. That moment would never leave him, every detail etched into his memory. It would be with him forever. He'd take it to the grave.

Burt tried to keep it together, he really tried. But the tsunami of tears would not be held back. His body was entrenched in emotions. He couldn't suppress it all, there was no way it would happen. Crying was the only thing he could do at a time like this.


	3. Prologue 3

Burt Hummel sat nervously in St Agnes Hospital, anxiously waiting to see his son. He'd been in that same spot for hours and he'd heard nothing. All he needed was a doctor, or even a nurse to say three simple words – he'll be okay – was that too much to ask? Was the world so terrible that it would take away his only son? Would it make him sit in a deftly silent waiting room that stank of anaesthetics, with a bucketful of unanswered questions.

'Mr Hummel?' A forty-something woman, with shoulder length chocolate hair, asked as she approached the only man in the waiting area at 4am on Thursday morning.

'Burt Hummel?' She persisted.

The man finally recognised his own name and responded by retrieving his worried face from callused hands and looked directly at her. She was quite petite, wearing ink scrubs with matching nails. Her hands grasped a clipboard as she sported a genuine, caring smile that reached her green eyes.

'Uh, yeah, that's me. Sorry. I'm just...It's been a long day.' Burt fumbled, releasing a sigh once he'd finished.

'I understand.' She smiled, taking a long reassuring pause, staring into Burt's hollow eyes. 'My name's Carole Hudson,' the woman extended one hand, to which Burt shook lazily, 'I'll be taking care of your son while he's here. Kurt's down the hall right now, I can take you to him if you'd like?'

'Yeah,' he stood, nodding his baseball capped head, 'is he going to be okay?' Hope soaked his tired eyes and his body went rigid in anticipation of Carole's answer. Before answering, she gestured him down the hallway, to Kurt's room, allowing them some privacy. The two came to a halt at an open doorway, a few minutes down the deserted corridor. Inside laid an 18 year old Kurt, slightly propped up against the right-hand wall.

'Well, Mr Hummel, I'm sorry to have to tell you this but Kurt, he, he's in a coma.' Her eyes fell to the floor, it was too painful to look at the expression on Burt's face. He almost keeled over at that one word, _coma_. His eyes were fixated on his son's form, lying, tucked into that hospital bed. Burt could feel the tears threatening to escape and that all too familiar lump in his throat.

'When will he be awake?' Burt inquired, his face filled with pain as he saw his son lying motionless in the hospital bed.

'I honestly couldn't tell you Mr Hummel. It could be a few hours, days, weeks? …You do need to prepare yourself for the worst though.'

'What do you mean? What could possibly be worse than this?'

'Well,' her voice was shaky, 'there's the, um, possibility that he, well, he may never wake up...' She trailed off, emerald eyes focusing on Kurt's frame. _That poor boy, he's only young, he's got his entire life ahead of him. God forbid this ever happen to a child of mine._

'Oh, right, that…'

'I am so sorry Mr Hummel, I'll do all I can to help, but at this rate, that doesn't look like a lot.'

'Please, call me Burt. And thank you.'

'It's my pleasure Mr-Burt.' The nurse stated before leaving Burt to be alone with his unconscious son.

Burt walked into the small room and sat in the perfectly placed chair to the right of Kurt's bed. The room was worn and deathly outdated, definitely in need of some TLC. Considering the amount people pay for health insurance, you'd think they could provide a decent standard of living whilst in hospital. No matter how much this room was in dire need of a new coat of paint, that wasn't at the forefront of Burt's mind at this very moment however. His concentration was on Kurt – his son. His eyes studied Kurt's every facial feature; examined his now flattened hair, the darkened eyes and paler than normal skin. This was not the Kurt he knew and loved; the Kurt he'd raised singlehandedly ever since his wife passed away; the Kurt who ordered hair care and facial products in bulk and stopped at his locker with every opportunity that arose in order for him to re-apply the bucket-load of hair spray that resulted in his usually flawless quiff.

'Kurt?' Burt whispered as he held his son's hand, 'Kurt, buddy, it's me. It's your dad.' He wasn't surprised when he received no response. 'I know this is stupid and if you were awake you'd laugh at me, but I read somewhere, I dunno in the newspaper or something, that some people in comas can actually hear you when you talk to them. So, buddy, if you can hear me, you better wake the hell up or I'll confiscate your face creams for a month and I know how addicted you are to that stuff.'  
Burt began to squeeze his son's hand, noting how cold to the touch Kurt was. It was as though the life was draining out of him by the second. The tears were breaking the barricades faster than Burt anticipated and before long he was fully bawling, not caring who heard him because this wasn't about him, it was about Kurt, his son.

Oblivious to how much time had passed whilst he sat weeping into his son's bedside, Burt greeted Carole, the nurse, when she came to check up on both of them the next day.

'You should really head home, get some rest. You look exhausted.' Carole advised as her frame occupied the doorway.

'No. No way. I can't leave him alone in this hospital.' Burt refused profusely.

'Well then, I suggest you come get a cup of coffee with me. We won't be gone long, I promise. Plus, we'll still be in the building if anything changes. You won't miss a thing Burt, scouts honour.'

Carole was happy to see that her enthusiasm was met with Burt's monstrous laughter. It was nice seeing him happy, it suited him.

'You don't look like a Girl Scout to me.' Burt almost teased.

'Ah, well, I can assure you I was the best Girl Scout this county has ever seen! Now, come on. Let's get some caffeine running through those veins.'

To that, Burt left his son and followed Carole downstairs to the coffee shop.


	4. Chapter 1

'Hey, buddy.' Burt greeted his son whilst sitting on the worn chair at his bedside. 'I just spoke to the doctor and he said you should be good to go in a few days.' Burt's hopeful eyes beamed at him and one hand rested comfortably in Kurt's.

'It's about time, I've been here forever,' Kurt complained.

'Well, the doctors just want to be on the safe side.'

'Yeah, yeah. Did you bring what I asked for?' He asked, brushing off his dad's comment.

His eyes lit up brighter than a Christmas tree when Burt brought out the latest issue of Vogue. He suppressed a squeal but his features gave away his rapture.

'Oh my God, thank you dad. You don't know how much pain I've been in knowing there's a new issue and I was yet to read it.'

'Anything for you buddy,' he smiled, squeezing Kurt's hand.

After a quick phone call, Burt bid Kurt farewell and headed to the shop to sort out an emergency.

* * *

Kurt had been cooped in this hospital for so long he'd almost forgotten what coffee tastes like. He decided to take his magazine and drink it in the cafeteria.

He made his way down the deserted hallway, clad in his pyjamas and a robe, until he reached a large room filled with white tables and chairs. Everything was so clinical and sterile looking it made him feel slightly nauseous.

The cafeteria was almost empty. Kurt joined a small queue on the far wall. The only people who seemed to be there were staff. It made Kurt quite uncomfortable; was he not meant to be in here?

It was his turn to order and he soon had his fingers wrapped around a hot cup of coffee. He turned around, ready to choose a seat in this large venue, and collided into a young man. Brown liquid stained his pale hands and clothing and puddle at his feet.

'Oh my God,' the man said, assessing the damage. 'I am so sorry.' He rushed over to the till and returned with handfuls of napkins and quickly mopped up the mess. 'Can you ever forgive me?' He asked with a seductively exotic accent that sent shivers down Kurt's spine.

'Oh, um, it's really not a big deal,' Kurt reasoned as his hands still clutched at the soggy paper cup.

'Are you kidding? I almost destroyed your bunny rabbit slippers! Now that would be a crime in itself.'

Kurt's cheeks were engulfed in heat and he let out a shy smile as he stared at his fluffy white rabbit-y feet.

'At least let me buy you another one,' he requested, already at the till.

'I'll have a Medium drip and,' he said to the elderly lady on the till before turning to Kurt. 'And what would you like Peter Rabbit?'

Kurt turned around, amused and embarrassed by his new nickname, 'a Grande non-fat Mocha.'

'Excellent,' he replied, turning back to the impatient lady. 'And a Grande non-fat Mocha too please my love.'

'Yep, I got it handsome,' she spoke with a bitter tone.

He handed her the money and returned to Kurt with two freshly made drinks.

'Here you go,' he said, handing Kurt a new drink and guiding him to a table. 'Do you mind if I join you?'

'No, not at all,' Kurt responded, swallowing hard as he finally gave this mysterious man a once over before they sat. His eyes widened at what he saw; the young man was, in a word, beautiful. He was gorgeous; he was everything Kurt had ever wanted in a guy – give or take a few inches. Kurt ogled his every feature: his dark, gel-thick hair; his tight jeans; his checked shirt and sweater vest; his tanned skin; his flawless smile and gleaming teeth; his accent. Kurt swooned with every look.

'So, what's your name? Don't tell me it's Peter?' He mocked as a delectable smile crept across his face.

'It's Kurt, sorry to disappoint you,' he retorted with a smile, taking a sip of his first hospital coffee.

'That is a shame, but Kurt is a nice name too. I'm Blaine.'

'It's nice to meet you Blaine.' His eyes were fixed on Blaine, memorising his every feature and expression.

'Likewise.'

'What accent is that?' Kurt questioned. It had been bugging him since their little encounter; it was on the tip of his tongue but for some reason the answer escaped him.

Blaine laughed slightly before taking a quick sip of coffee. 'I'm from Britain,' he replied, watching Kurt's reaction.

_Oh my God, he's gorgeous and British. What have I done to deserve this?_ Kurt internally screamed.

'Ohh. Of course. I should've known. I've seen Xmen: First Class like 72 times.'

Blaine cocked an eyebrow.

'Have you never seen it?' Kurt grilled him with shocked eyes and parted lips.

'Um, no? I've only just moved here, I haven't had much time for films or anything like that. I've only just started at my new school a week ago.'

'School? I thought you had to pass a shed load of exams to become a doctor? Why would you go back?' He asked Blaine with curiosity laced in his words.

He chuckled, yet the amusement escaped Kurt. 'I'm not a doctor, Kurt. I'm only 18. I'm a Youth Volunteer.'

'Oh,' Kurt's cheeks were inflamed once more. He could feel his veins burning like hot lava beneath his pale skin. 'I guess that explains why you're not wearing those sexy doctor uniforms.'

'Give it time,' he winked at Kurt.

Kurt's entire body seized up; the image of Blaine in a doctor's uniform was too much to think about this early in the morning. He looked away, willing his heart rate to subside.

'How come you're here anyway? You don't exactly look like you belong?' Blaine inquired with coffee stained lips.

'Oh, um, it's nothing. I just, fell off my bike…' Kurt lied as his eyes darted across his coffee cup – he was an awful liar. There was no way he could lie to someone's face; he could not look them in the eye and deceive them the way he's seen countless people do.

Luckily, Blaine did not pick up on Kurt's tell. 'Oh right, I'm sorry to hear that. Did the bike make it out okay?'

'Oh, no... She's a goner, unfortunately.' He was still staring at the plastic lid of his coffee, refusing to look up in case Blaine saw the truth in his eyes.

Blaine frowned at Kurt's response. His hazel eyes saddened and his smile faded.

'I, um, I better be off. I've got to go check on some patients before Dr Farberry gets in.' The devilishly handsome Brit stood, coffee in hand. 'I'll see you around Kurt.'

'I'm counting on it,' he whispered once Blaine was out of earshot.

Kurt watched as he disappeared down the hallway. His eyes ached with every step Blaine took and his heart beat never faltered.

_Is this what love feels like?_


	5. Chapter 2

Kurt dropped onto the empty chair next to Mercedes in the choir room. It was his first day back and everybody was under the pretence that he was on holiday for the past three weeks. He tried his best to seem his usual self but it was hard when everybody kept asking him about his trip to Paris; they knew how bad of a liar he was.

The choir room was filled with multiple conversations. Mercedes turned to him after she'd finished flirting with Sam, 'so, would you like me to fill you in on what you missed now or later?'

Did she really have to ask? 'Now,' he nodded.

'That's my boy,' she grinned, 'okay, so Karofsky got suspended for 2 weeks – a real shame I know.'

Kurt didn't need to ask why; he knew all too well. He simply nodded his understanding and let her continue.

'Quinn and Finn broke up and now Finn's totally crushing on Rachel.'

'And of course we all know Rachel has been in love with Finn since the dawn of time,' Kurt added.

'Mhmm,' she agreed.

'Is that it? I go away for three weeks and that's all I miss? God this town really does suck.'

'Wow, wow, wow, hold your horses. I'm just getting to the good stuff now.'

'Oh do continue m'lady,' Kurt gestured for her to continue. There was a hint of sarcasm laced into his words.

'Okay, I know it's your first day back, so prepare yourself,' she started.

Kurt gave her a strange look; what could possibly be so out there that he'd have to physically prepare himself to hear it?

'There's a new kid.'

'Oh wow,' Kurt clutched at his chest, feigning a heart attack. 'I think you might have to get the nurse after that shock.'

Mercedes glared at him, clearly not amused, 'this is serious Kurt.'

'How is a new kid at McKinley serious? We have new kids all the time.'

'Uh, you obviously haven't met him; he's H-O-T-T hot. And British. Oh, and did I mention that he works in the hospital? Hello man in uniform,' she winked and nudged him.

It was too early in the morning for Kurt to put together the pieces, so he just stared at her.

Mercedes spent the next five minutes talking about her White Chocolate, Sam, but Kurt could not register a single word as his attention was drawn to the doorway. A guy in tight jeans and that all too familiar shirt and sweater vest combination walked in. Kurt had to swallow his surprise but his blue eyes were wide as saucers. Blaine was the new kid Mercedes has been preaching about.

He looked as handsome as Kurt remembered, although he did miss the idea of Dr Blaine.

Blaine's eyes met his and he walked towards him, sitting in the seat next to Kurt with a smile.

Mercedes nudged Kurt and gave him a less than subtle wink.

'Blaine?' Kurt asked, gaping at the gorgeous boy sitting with his thigh brushing against his own. The heat from his legs burnt through Kurt's jeans and sent volts of electricity through his body. His heart adopted that fast pace again.

He placed his bag on the floor and looked at Kurt with bright eyes, 'Kurt? Hey.' He smiled with such ease that Kurt felt at home, like he's always been in the presence of that toothy grin.

'When you said you transferred schools I didn't know you meant here…' Kurt continued, still taken aback from the situation.

'Yeah, well, it is the only school near the hospital, so my parents thought it'd be a good idea to see what McKinley had to offer.'

Kurt nodded in response as Mr Schue came in. He began by giving everyone a lecture on how important Sectionals are and how much preparation they'd need if they were to beat the Vocal Adrenaline.

'So, how are you feeling?' Blaine whispered as Mr Schue rattled off the same spiel he gives every Glee lesson.

Kurt's eyes darted around to make sure no one was listening in, 'um, fine. Listen, can we talk about this later?'

Blaine gave him a sympathetic smile and squeezed his knee. 'Of course, anything for you Peter Rabbit.'

Kurt immediately turned ruby red; he'd forgotten about the slipper incident and the cloyingly cute nickname that came with it. He studied Blaine's face and then focused his attention onto his knee. Blaine's hand was still placed atop his knee. Kurt wanted to reach out and clasp that hand with his own and claim Blaine as his, but it wasn't that simple. He didn't even know if Blaine was gay, let alone if he liked Kurt in the same way Kurt felt about him.

* * *

Glee club flew by. Nothing had really changed in there – apart from Blaine; Rachel was still stealing all the solos and making heart eyes at Finn every opportunity she got; Santana still made jokes about Rachel's, well, everything; and Sam still made impressions that no one understood.

Everyone was filtering out of the choir room when the bell sounded – apart from Kurt. He was still packing away his things.

'Kurt?' That sexy British accent asked from the doorway, stepping closer.

He looked up and smiled, 'hey Blaine. What's up?'

'I was wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee?' He asked donning on a genuine smile.

'Oh, I was planning on going to the library. I've got a lot to catch up on,' he stated. His eyes watched as Blaine's magnificent smiled dropped.

'Oh,' Blaine replied.

'But I guess I can do that another time?' Kurt gleamed, attempting to salvage their conversation; he was not about to miss a coffee date with Blaine.

'Great! I'll drive?'

* * *

Kurt stood shoulder to shoulder with Blaine in the line at the Lima Bean. It was mostly empty – just a few students on their laptops and the odd teacher.

'Can I get a Medium Drip and a Grande non-fat Mocha please my love?' Blaine asked, handing the cashier a ten dollar bill.

'You know my coffee order?' Kurt questioned. His heart swelled at the gestured as butterflies escaped their cocoons, exploring his stomach wildly. His baby blues were glued to Blaine in amazement; he really was everything Kurt had dreamed of in his first boyfriend.

Blaine turned around with both coffees and uttered, 'of course I do silly.'

They slid onto two seats in the corner.

'I want to tell you something,' Blaine began, looking at Kurt with glistening hazel eyes.

'I'm all ears,' Kurt replied, sipping his coffee.

'I don't want you to think I'm some creep or anything, but ever since our little coffee date on Friday, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I mean, it's crazy; I don't even know your last name, but I've found myself completely infatuated by you; your smile; your beautiful baby blues; the way you blush a deeper shade of red than I thought was humanly possible whenever I mention your bunny rabbit slippers.'

Kurt's heart was racing and sweaty palms hugged his coffee cup. Was this real? Was a guy as gorgeous as Blaine really into him? He couldn't form a sentence in his hazed mind. He was still trying to process everything that left Blaine's beautiful, British lips.

'Um, I,' Kurt stuttered.

'You don't have to say anything Kurt.'

Thank God, because he really wasn't able to give a response at this very moment. He was too busy celebrating at the fact he could have a boyfriend in the very near future.

'I just thought you should know in case you see me accidentally staring at you one day in Glee Club and wonder why. That's why.'


End file.
